


Wanted for Error.

by RileyHummel, RobertColfer



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29506527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyHummel/pseuds/RileyHummel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertColfer/pseuds/RobertColfer
Summary: While visiting his parents, Kurt Hummel stumbles upon a mysterious trunk in the attic that is about to turn his life upside down.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Wanted for Error.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I'm going in with this genre! After being stuck inside, I decided to vent through writing and this is what came out of it. All characters tagged will be making an appearance in the future, but this first chapter is just focused on Kurt. 
> 
> I don't want to give too much away, but fingers crossed the ending comes out as I'm planning. 
> 
> Big thanks to RileyHummel for beta'ing for me, and helping me do research!

"I am so bored!" 

And what an understatement that sentence was. 

Ohio was under a winter storm warning, meaning everyone was stuck indoors until it passed. While the sun was out, glinting off the freshly fallen snow and making the house look ten-times brighter than it normally was, it was only the tip of the iceberg. 

And Kurt Hummel was ready to pull his stylish hair out. He had been stuck inside with no where to go for days now. His legs were getting restless and there was only so much walking back and forth from the mailbox at the end of the drive that he could take to be considered getting out of the house. He missed human interaction. He missed driving to the stores and seeing all the things that he could touch just to establish it was real and to imagine himself having it in his future. He had gone through every streaming service at his disposal, and nothing piqued his interest. Anything he started was stopped after five minutes, as it just sounded like noise. 

Forgotten outfits lay strewn around his bedroom floor, unfinished projects and stuff he had yet to put back in the closet or in the laundry room. He wanted to finish the outfit still hanging proudly on his sewing bust, but the motivation to thread needles and pin things; it was too exhausting. 

He had to get out of this room. It was driving him up a wall. 

The house was empty when he emerges, and he can imagine Burt and Carole are taking things slow at the grocery store. Why hadn't he agreed to go with them hours earlier? Because he had let himself take a nap and they left without him. Still kicking himself for that, he stands at the top of the landing of the second floor, listening for any sound of life. 

Nothing. He's alone. 

Descending the stairs, socked feet padding softly on carpet and into the kitchen, he opens the fridge. Nothing appealing jumps out at him, giving him the notion there was nothing to eat. Even if the fridge itself was stocked, and he knew there was actual food in the cabinets and cupboards, it makes his mouth go dry. 

Was he actually hungry? 

His stomach growls. 

Starving. 

Groaning in defeat, he shuts the fridge and goes in search of the cook book collection Burt has stacked somewhere. Perhaps flipping through those would give him an idea of what he could eat to pass the time, refuel his body with energy to be productive. Just give him something to do! 

Five cookbooks later and he's running his hands through his hair, tilting his head back against the kitchen wall with another groan, annoyed. Still, nothing. 

A creak from upstairs draws his attention. It could be the wind making things groan under its icy breath, so he sits and listens. Another creak, louder and an almost thudding sound right above him makes him stiffen. 

Burglars? No. Only idiots would move through the ten plus inches of snow to rob someone, and even if he knew Ohio was full of them, he weighs out that possibility. 

Another creak. 

Kurt is on his feet, silently moving through his own house and climbing the stairs. All is still when he reaches the landing again, but his curiosity is what drives him forward. 

Pushing open Finn's bedroom door, he peers in. Nothing out of the ordinary. His step-brothers things are exactly where they were left when it changed into a guest room. 

He hears the creak again from behind him. His parents room being the only culprit. 

Stepping to the open door that leads into Burt and Carole's bedroom, he carefully steps inside and looks around. No windows were open, everything seemingly untouched. Nothing suspicious caught his attention, even if he does move cautiously to the bathroom and check behind the shower curtain and doors. 

Still no one. Just him feeling foolish for whipping the shower curtain back so fast he knocked shampoo bottles off their ledges. If there was someone in the house, no doubt they heard that loud bang. 

"You're being ridiculous," Kurt sighs, exiting the bedroom, "you're just bored and now you're hearing thi—"

A loud bump is heard above him, and he's so startled he screams. Hands flying to his mouth, glancing upward. 

Something was in the attic. 

He debates calling the police, but decides against it. In this weather, what could they do? He could just wait for his dad to get back, but also he had no idea when that would be. 

Chin up, he looks around for some kind of weapon. Deciding a heavy wood hanger will do just fine, and he steps into the hall to pull the chain to the attic ladder down. 

The attic was mostly used for storage, full of boxes and containers of Christmas decorations that he knows Burt just put up here from last month. It has a small window to grant natural light at either end, and it's enough for Kurt to scan the area for any possible intruder. 

His immediate logic went to possible animals getting in. Which he also didn't want to run into up here. Raccoons may have been cute on paper, but he knew better. Those trash panda's would have no problem jumping him if they felt threatened, and this was a Marc Jacobs sweatshirt. 

"Hello?" He calls out, pulling himself up and standing in the middle of the room.

Naturally there was no response. Why would there be? It was his own imagination making things up. Being alone in the house, any snow falling from nearby trees on the roof would create such noises. 

Since he was up here already, it doesn't hurt to look around. The attic wasn't a place he frequented often since he had been in middle school. His mother's chest was up here of her clothes, his childhood toys that Burt couldn't find in himself to throw away, and odds and ends that had some significant value. 

A shuffle nearby has Kurt holding his hanger up, ready to strike. It seemed to be coming from a trunk that he didn't remember seeing before. 

It was covered in old, vintage leather straps. With how good his eye was for this kind of thing, he would've remembered it. 

Slowly kneeling beside it, he inspects it closer. 

It was securely shut. The straps were buckled tight, two latches keeping it airtight, and a lock that required a small key to access whatever was inside. 

Hanger forgotten on the floor, Kurt stands and begins his search for this mysterious key. Not knowing what he was exactly looking for, or even where to search. Ten minutes of searching the trunk itself and the area around it, he comes up empty handed. 

The door downstairs slamming shut and his fathers voice travels up to him, knocking him back on his butt against the floorboards. 

"I'm in the attic!" Kurt yells, needing a moment to collect himself from his stupidity. 

"You gonna come down and help  
us with the groceries?" Burt asks. 

No, his inner voice is grumbling. He probably bruised his tailbone with that one. "Yes! I'll be right down!" 

Standing, somehow, and collecting the hanger, he climbs back down the ladder. Forgetting about the trunk for now.


End file.
